


Restoration of Renais

by wingedcat13



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Basically everyone plus necessary OCs to be bureaucrats, F/M, M/M, Multi, Post SS world in repair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-01 02:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15133436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedcat13/pseuds/wingedcat13
Summary: The War of the Stones left most of the continent of Magvel in ruins - not the fault of the remaining royals, of course, and they've all dedicated themselves to repairing their shattered nations with the same determination that brought down the demon king. Of course, they also need time to heal, but what's a grace period to a fallen, embittered god?A post-war Restoration fic, focusing on Renais specifically as its new, painfully young rulers take on a different kind of strategy - politics.





	1. Arise, Renais

        The trouble with being born to something is that the something never leaves you, until you die. When that something is battle, more often than not, it is the cause of your death. And when that something is suffering… those poor souls best focus on their silver linings, if they ever wish to be happy.  
  
         This said, one would expect the current ruling pair in Renais, the King Ephraim and his sister, the Lady Eirika, to exude a sense of doom or despair. Yet, here, the king born to battle trains others to survive the same urge, and sates his appetite on the odd bandit raid. Here, the lady born to suffer rises to every challenge, and takes solace in knowing she suffers so others will not. Their lives are not perfect, and far from truly peaceful, but there is a reason their people look up to them, and trust them with their lives.  
           
         That burden weighs more heavily than ever when advisors begin speaking of securing the future of the nation.  
  
          Eirika supposes she should see it as a good sign: that they have moved beyond the immediate dangers and can now begin to look forward past the next crisis. However, she cannot help but wish such future planning had been based around securing crop surpluses, or taking the opportunity to relay foundations of infrastructure. Anything, really, besides her marriage. That she would marry was an expectation she had grown up with, the fate of any royal whose nation has need of support from its neighbors. The issue had never been pressing though, with the long years of peace prior to the war, and then the urgency of the war itself had never required such negotiation. She would have been willing to offer herself as a bargaining piece, had it come to that, in order to save her people, but now such things seemed… well, not frivolous, but certainly not a cause for a council meeting quite so soon.  
  
          “That so many royals are as of yet unmarried is a blessing we cannot assume will continue – now is the time to ensure we have ties that will last for generations!”  
  
          “Rumors spread already that the King of Jehanna has his sights set upon a queen, how much longer until the remaining royals are all paired off?”  
   
          “The negotiations of such a marriage will take time, we do not ask you to marry today, Princess.”

          “But we do need to begin such talks soon – Bethas, has the Frelian diplomat made any suggestions towards a royal match?”  
  
          “Plenty, but I do not know if he has orders or is simply probing-“

          “Enough.” At Ephraim’s word, the advisors fall silent. He has not been king long, but already they know to listen, and perhaps in their own way they are still looking for insight as to how the king’s mind works. None of them were warriors, who fought in the war, but instead had focused on leading their people through the crisis, even under Orson. Because of that, they had proven themselves both competent and loyal to Renais. Yet this also meant they knew only as much about Ephraim as had been passed down through stories of his exploits. It is difficult to negotiate or guide someone when all one knows of them is that they are quite capable of striking anyone down without a moment’s pause, regardless of whether or not such rumors are true.  
  
          “Lady Eirika, your thoughts on the matter?” Eirika looked up from the table, surprised, though she knew she shouldn’t be. She had not noticed, in the discussion, that she had been shrinking smaller and smaller, and focusing only on the small chip of wood on the table in front of her. Thinking of how it could have gotten there – one of the battles for control of the castle most likely – had allowed her to ignore the implications of the conversation she did not want to face. But those were not the thoughts that Ephraim was asking for.  
  
          “I understand the council is concerned for our nation’s future, and for that I thank you all. Please, rest assured that should my marriage to anyone be necessary for our people’s safety or happiness, I would agree without hesitation. However, I feel that the council is unnecessarily worried about our ties to our neighbors – Ephraim and I have both become close friends with all of these royals you speak of, and fought alongside them during the war. I ask that you do not underestimate those bonds, or potentially disregard them in favor of a marriage contract.”   
  
          "The Princess has a point, gentlemen.”

          “Yes but, forgive me, your highness, but should we not be concerned? Prior to the events of the past two years, it was understood that Lady Eirika would likely marry the Prince of Grado -“ If the advisor speaking noticed the twins tense at the mention of their lost friend, he did not heed it “ – and now that Grado is still as of yet in turmoil, we must begin to pursue a marriage contract with another nation, or risk losing the boon it would grant.”

           Ephraim glanced at Eirika briefly as he stood, demanding the council’s full attention. “My sister has the final word in these decisions, and for the moment it cannot be our chief concern. I would much prefer that you focused on ensuring the return of crops through Serafew, and allowed my sister and me a moment to speak in private.”

           There was a murmur of “Yes, my lord”s and “Of course, your highness” that echoed briefly in the chamber, but aside from that and the scraping of chairs, the advisors left the room quietly. That did not last in the hallway, from which bickering over the value of Frelia’s exports compared to Jehanna’s could be heard until the heavy oak door closed behind them. Then it was only the twins, left alone in the Advisor’s Chamber.

            Eirika took a moment to savor the silence, then looked her brother in the eyes. “I will need some time to think this over.” Ephraim nodded cautiously, both because he was unsure of the strength of her feelings on the matter, and because he had found if he moved too quickly his crown had a habit of slipping forward.

           “Please, do not let them reduce you to a bargaining chip, Eirika. You know you are my best advisor in all of this, even if they do not. I could not rule Renais without you.”

           Eirika smiled, “If you think I will run away from a few advisors and their contracts, you do not know me well at all brother. As I said, if it will help Renais and her people, I am more than willing to marry whomever I must.”

           Ephraim walked over and placed his hand on her shoulder. He seemed concerned, but his eyes were kind. “I would hate to see you marry out of duty and be unhappy. If we are in such dire straits, I would rather marry myself and save you the trouble.”

           Eirika laughed as she stood. “You would face down a bride like an opponent on the battlefield, it would not be a wedding so much as a duel!” She reached up to straighten her brother’s crown, which had indeed begun to slide forwards. “And I am not convinced either of us shall ever need to marry.”

           Ephraim now smiled as well. “Perhaps that is how I will choose my bride, if it comes to that… hmm… a tournament to determine the Queen of Renais!”

           Eirika could not help but roll her eyes at that, “You would have Pegasus knights from three countries over flying here in a panic.”

           Together, the twins made their way out of the room as Ephraim responded, “And not a one of them could ever best you in battle. That would be my saving grace, should the winner of the tournament be cruel.”

            “Oh I can only imagine – ‘And now, as your final test, you must face the current Queen of Renais in a duel!’ Our advisors would have a fit!”

            “Ah, but then we would be saved! You would triumph, of course, but we could never marry, and due to the binding of the tournament are thus unable to marry anyone else! What a coup that would be.”

            “Oh please, speak quietly, lest the advisors hear you speak of tournaments – they may decide to hold something in my name instead!”

            “And then, of course, I would enter, disguised as a field knight, and we would pull the same trick in reverse. Do you think I could fit into Kyle’s armor? No… and Forde’s is too recognizable… perhaps Seth has an extra set somewhere…” Eirika paused, as they had reached the end of the corridor.

            “Much as I appreciate your plans to be my dashing hero, you should go be a dashing king instead. I will think the matter over, but we both have other duties to attend to.”

            “Of course – I am off to the training grounds then. Give L’Arachel my best, please.”

            “I will, and mine to the Cavaliers.”

            “What, all of them? Are you certain you don’t want knights fighting for your hand?”

            They parted ways at that, both smiling, and happy they could share moments like this even as rulers of a nation. For a short time now, Ephraim could put aside thoughts of economic doom and crop failure and instead focus on training the next generation of Renais’ knights. Eirika could put this session with the advisors out of her mind, and instead greet a dear friend.


	2. Another Day, Another Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renais' knighthood is always looking out for talent, but it's up to the current knights to train them - if they can stay focused, that is.

     “Ooh! Marigolds! I promise I’ll catch up, ride on without me!”

     “Forde? Forde, no, stay with the - … and he’s gone.” As he watched his partner’s red and gold armored back ride off in search of – what was it, Marigolds? – Sir Kyle turned back to address those riding with him. “Squires, please, feel free to take a lesson from Sir Forde, in what not to do.”

     “Um, sir? Is he…” One of the recruits was nervous, but curious enough to start the question before having second thoughts.

     “Out with it squire, I’m listening.” Indulging a bit of curiousity now wouldn't do any harm, and better they learn to communicate than try and force decorum after it had been so flagrantly disregarded.

     “He isn’t… going to collect flowers for a, er, for someone special, is he?”

     Kyle spared another glance for the squire, a young woman who preferred a solid horse to a flying Pegasus, but noted she didn’t look interested for the wrong reasons. She wasn’t blushing, for one, and seemed to simply be rather confused. He could understand that. Before he could answer, however, Franz laughed from the rear of their group. He wasn’t riding with them as often these days, partially because he and Amelia were one of the greatest knight pairs in Renais and thus rarely spared from patrol when the others were, but he had agreed to ride along with this training exercise on one of his brief visits home. “Oh, no, he’s probably looking for paint ingredients!”

     “How do you know?” Another squire, an older (comparatively at least) man who had joined after the war, asking Franz directly. They always seemed to find him easier to speak to than Kyle, but that didn’t bother him, especially not when he was serving as their spotter. Well, technically he’d given the duty to a squire, but they were still new and seemed more interested in the potential for gossip than the potential for bandit attacks.

     “Several reasons,” Franz answered cheerily, only a shade more reticent than his brother these days: “One, he’s my brother if you didn’t know, and I’ve seen him painting before. Two, he’s been muttering about yellows recently, and marigolds are his favorite for making yellow paint. And number three –“

     “Reason three is that I prefer roses or lilies to marigolds.” Kyle didn’t mind being open about their relationship, and he also knew this would bring conversation to a close as the squires first tried to figure out if he was joking, and if so, about what. They would also be distracted from the fact that Forde painted, which wasn’t exactly a secret, but was still something he preferred not to talk too much about.

     Except for in the middle of a battle, at least. Then he wouldn’t shut up about it.

     “Really Kyle?” A familiar voice called from behind a screen of trees and brush. He and Franz were unsurprised, but the recruits gasped with recognition. At least, some did. Some weren’t able to connect the dots until Ephraim revealed himself from the trees, riding with Seth at his side. He seemed to be in a good mood today, enough to tease his fellow knights at least. “I’m a tulip man myself. What about you, Franz?”

     “Oh, Morning Glories,” came the airy reply, “though I agree with Sir Kyle, roses can be quite nice.”

     Ephraim, riding alongside the group now, raised his eyebrows as he asked, “What about all of you, hmm? What flower catches your fancy?”

     For some of the squires, that was enough to make them blush and look away. Ephraim was still young after all, barely a few years older than these squires, and he was their king. That alone would’ve made him a figure to be worshipped and sighed at from afar, even if he wasn’t one of the heroes of the War of the Sacred Stones. Kyle was glad to be at the front of their little cavalcade, as he could roll his eyes without fear of seeming irreverent.

     Two or three of the braver squires had started to reply to Ephraim when Seth cut them off, “Whatever it is, I hope you won’t be too disappointed with us. All we have for you today are bouquets of javelins.”

     Kyle could not see the others, but he heard the delight in Franz’s voice, “Ah, so we are to start on that today! No wonder you have us so far from the castle.”

     Ephraim’s reply was calmer, slightly more serious, “Yes, I wanted to make sure there would be no more accidents like last time.”

     Even Seth was inclined to joke today, it seemed: “In our defense, we did warn the merchants not to cross through that field. And to defend that squires honor, no one was harmed but a chicken, which he did pay for.”

     Franz again, “Not that he would have had to, mind. The merchant didn’t know much about lances, so to him, this young squire had neatly gotten his chicken from all the way across the field in a single toss! Luckily he wasn’t fond of the animal.”

     Ephraim, full of mock scorn, “And I expect there will be no such accidents today, squires. I also hope, that you will agree to never share this story outside of the brotherhood, in order to preserve your fellow knights’ honor.”

     Kyle found that this was his place in the banter and familiar story, “And it is for that same reason we will not tell you this knight’s name. At least, not so long as his brother catches up to us shortly.”  
He felt the corners of his mouth tug up at Franz’s offended and horrified scoff – it had indeed been him who had missed his shot with the javelin, and though it had been several years and he was a decorated hero in his own right, he would never truly live it down. He also found the tale amusing, however, and it seemed to put the squires more at ease with everyone involved.

     Though, shouldn’t Forde have returned by now? Unless he had decided to take a nap among his soon-to-be painting supplies - which wasn’t impossible or even improbable, really. Regardless, he was a knight of Renais, a brilliant swordsman, and in his home territory. He would be fine.

     To think of something else, and in the spirit of camaraderie, truly, he asked, “What about you, General Seth?”

     “What about me, Sir Kyle?”

     “What’s your favorite flower? You never said.”

     “Ah, that. I’ll have you know I prefer daisies.”


End file.
